Aslan and Armies
by PeacockBlue
Summary: Narnia and Dumbledore's Army. What can I say? Follow-up number 5 to 'Hobbits and Hair Dye'.


_Rule 6) 'Dumbledore's Army' is not a legitimate side in the war and, as such, do not put recruitment posters up for it._

I looked around cautiously, checking for elves, dwarves and urgals, elves in particular. Nothing.

I struggled up a snow-covered bank and took in my surroundings. One thing caught my eye. A group of three children of different ages, two girls and one boy. I scanned their immediate area and my eye was caught by a small movement down near the ground. Two beavers were leading the way, the children appeared to be talking to them, quietly and furtively.

"Hey!" I shouted, "Over here!"

They turned, spinning around on the spot. The biggest one, the only boy, slipped and fell on the packed snow.

"Who are you?" a _beaver_ demanded, "And who is your leader? Which army do you fight for?"

I smirked. I could and would have a _lot _of fun here. "I fight for Dumbledore's Army. I am in the DA and I am _proud_ of it!"

"Who is this Dumbledore?"

I let fly with the Elder Swear, shocking them out of their dispute. They just stood there and took it in sheer disbelief. Seriously, the Elder Swear was now my second most favourite weapon in my arsenal. My favourite being, of course, _cuneus_.

I stopped to draw breath and looked down at myself. White skiing jacket with ice-blue snowflakes on, thick padded waterproof trousers and cool sparkly snowboots with pom poms on.

Once I had turned blue from lack of oxygen, they felt safe to cut in.

"Are you for the White Witch?"

"Oh, hell no!" I grinned.

They seemed surprised at my use of 'hell' to emphasise my point.

We eventually met up at the Pavilion. I had ditched my snow gear as it warmed up, finding myself dressed for a scorcher of a summer underneath, complete with sunblock smears and a sunglasses case.

I was bewildered at the range of people here and surprised at what was considered a person. The rule to go with seemed to be; if it talks, it's a person. Currently, the only 'people' I was comfortable with were the trio of humans being treated with deference and respectful murmurs of 'Son of Adam' and 'Daughter of Eve'. I actually got in on the 'Daughter of Eve' thing until I 'let slip' that I was atheist and in general hated anything to do with religion, the biggest and longest-running con in history. After I had aired my views on that, I was generally left alone to my own devices.

Big mistake.

I had reached into my Magic Backpack and found a _solar-powered printer _with _endless ink supplies_ and a laptop connected to it. Battery life was not a problem. Immortal printer plus immortal laptop equals F-U-N. I got to work designing my posters, finding a good quantity of pictures of my preferred subject in the images file.

The camp woke the next morning to find hundreds of posters pinned to the tents with an endless supply of safety pins. Lucy, out of the Three, took it the best. Peter, however, stormed into my tent holding a sheet of paper in his clenched fist.

"What," he demanded, "Is this?" he thrust the A4 poster into my face.

I calmly removed it from the death grip he was holding it in and made a show of admiring my artwork.

_**Dumbledore wants YOU to join his army!**_

_**(picture of the epic wizard beneath, pointing outwards in true Kitchener style)**_

_**Join today, just apply at Alice Greene's tent in the far South-West corner of the camp.**_

"And your problem is?"

"You are making a mockery of Lord Kitchener! He is a brave man who is trying to encourage our men to join up to fight the Nazis!"

"You mean, getting new cannon fodder." I stated flatly.

"Brave, heroic soldiers!"

"To-may-toe, to-mah-toe,"

"Sorry, _what_?"

"You say to-_may-_toe, I say to-_mah-_toe? Same difference?" he did not understand me, no matter what I said to try to get him to understand that the 'brave, heroic soldiers' were mere cannon fodder. "Hold on," I stopped in the middle of my painful, drawn-out explanation. "Your dad's one of those 'brave, heroic soldiers', isn't he?"

"Who told you?" he asked, suddenly on the defensive.

"Err, _you_, durr. In your defence of the cannon fodder and your refusal to believe the truth. Do you know what the death rate is?" I mean, yeah we won the war, but we did lose a whole generation of men doing so. I peeked out of my tent, taking advantage of my assailant's sudden confusion. "Just hold that thought a moment? It appears I have some volunteers."

Outside was an assortment of creatures, both mundane (as far as possible) and mythological. I gazed out at the assembled crowds and saw an assortment of centaurs, unicorns, Horses, Dogs, a Goat, Badgers and even a Lion. I made a double-take. That thing was HUGE, at least twice as tall as I was.

I grimaced. Being eaten by a lion, even if it was a Lion, was not a way I had planned to go.

"Aslan," whispered Peter, overcome with awe. "I thought that you were…"

"Dead?" the ginormous Lion chuckled. "It takes a lot to kill this lion!" he shook his mane and turned to face me. Despite the danger I was in, had to go and put my foot in it.

"So, come to join up?" I asked. "Or after more information on Dumbledore?"

I reached into my bag and found some low volume speakers and the Harry Potter gift set of tapes. I put on the first one and skipped through to the Great Feast where Dumbledore makes his epic speech.

It took time, but eventually we got through the whole Harry Potter series. Who would have known that Aslan was Potterhead material?

My private army swelled to hover comfortably at about half the size of the camp now that it had Aslan's backing.

The troops were lined up. Peter was sending dirty looks in my direction, not liking the fact that my forces were twice the size of his.

The enemy was spotted by the Eagles circling high above the intended battlefield.

The forces shifted uneasily.

I killed a few more Space Invaders before turning off my iPod and tucking it away in my Magic Backpack.

The signal was given.

"**For Narnia**!" yelled Peter's army.

"**COME AND HAVE A GO IF YOU THINK YOU'RE HARD ENOUGH!**" I had educated _my _troops in football hooliganism and promised a reward to whoever had the longest necklace of teeth.

We were soon in the thick of battle. I reached into my Magic Backpack and pulled out a Holy Hand Grenade complete with instructions.

I know it was a Holy Hand Grenade because it had a label attached.

"Lobbest thou thy holy hand grenade towards thy foe…" I muttered as I yanked the Holy Pin out, took aim and threw.

_**BOOM**_

"…And they, being naughty in my sight, shall snuff it." I finished.

Just as things were getting interesting, a familiar bolt of white light hit.

_**A.N. Yes, I know that Kitchener was WW1, not two. I had to do **_**something, **_**though. **_


End file.
